


slip of the tongue

by syntheticvoiddoll



Series: shots of engex [18]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Embarrassment, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvoiddoll/pseuds/syntheticvoiddoll
Summary: In other words, he was absolutely not paying attention.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock & Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Drift | Deadlock/Megatron
Series: shots of engex [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070663





	slip of the tongue

**Author's Note:**

> a very, very silly thing inspired by a post I found on tumblr and the ensuing conversation with friends (bc I only think I'm funny)

After retaking the ship, getting everything together, settled, and ordered to Magnus’s satisfaction — well, mostly — had taken the most work. But they’d managed it in the end. Drift had skipped several recharge cycles, but nothing serious. Nothing like what they’d been through at the hands of the DJD, or in that parallel Functionist universe.

Just a little sleepiness and running on high-octane fuel spiced with the undeniable excitement of being home. At last. All he had to do was get through one more staff meeting and he could sleep in his own hab suite.

Primus, what a thought.

For a long moment, he didn’t even realize he was tuning out the conversation around him. He was staring through his datapad, unseeing, thinking about his old berth while the background rumbling of Magnus and Megatron establishing their status and next steps provided an almost soothing backdrop to it all. Drift could fall asleep listening to either of them talk — not in insult of subject matter, but just in how soothing the bassy parts of their tones. Lulling.

In other words, he was absolutely not paying attention.

And, Primus help him, that was his only excuse. That, and the basest of instinctual responses. Because when he was clearly tired and zoned out was when his name was called. By Megatron. And without a single thought, without even looking up from his non-visual on his datapad, he murmured:

“Yes, my lord?”

It rolled off his glossa so naturally that with his processors so fogged with fatigue, he really had no clue what he’d said, or that it was in any way inappropriate until awareness dripped in little by little, his field prickling oddly, until he realized —

The entire room was quiet. Not just quiet, but shocked silent, and all optics were on him.

Drift blinked, lowering his datapad. “What?”

No one seemed able to find the words to answer him, but Drift was already replaying the last few moments, a flush overtaking nearly his entire frame as he realized.

Drift rubbed the bridge of his nose, determinedly looking anywhere that wasn’t at Megatron or Magnus. “Listen — ”

“To what?” Drift pursed his lips; Rodimus was the last mech whose optics he wanted to meet, but given his other options, he had no choice. And when he glanced over, clutching his datapad too tight in his hand, he was not particularly surprised to find that Rodimus was obviously holding back laughter. And yet his plating still itched as though it longed to crawl off his frame.

“Rodimus... “ Drift said, frowning. The other mech burst into what could only be described as giggles, and Drift sighed. “If that’s all, then — ”

Rodimus flapped a hand at him. “No, no, I just have a question.”

Again, very pointedly not looking at anyone else, Drift crossed his arms. “I haven’t recharged properly in weeks — and not at all this past week, so I hope you’ll forgive — ”

Rodimus interrupted him again with a loud pfffft. “No, no. I just want to know…” He leaned forward, optics aglow, an impish grin plastered to his face, and acting as though his stage whisper was at all quiet or private. “Did he make you call him that when you were fr— ”

The screen of the datapad cracked under Drift’s grip as he clenched his fists. “Rodimus!” he hissed. His features were blazing hot and, unfortunately, it was showing in his field.

With Rodimus cackling, however, the rest of them seemed to finally come unfrozen. Magnus was booming something about conventions of propriety, and Rodimus, truthfully, seemed to be trying to get more of a rise out of Megatron than anything, because now they were arguing as well. Rather than the soothing tones from before, this was sheer chaos.

A good moment for escape, then.

Drift dropped the remains of the datapad on the table and slipped to the door — practically escaping notice. But, of course, he had to take one look back as he slipped out of the conference room, and by chance he caught and held Megatron’s gaze for just a moment.

His spark whirred strangely in his chassis, but he was more interested in leaving the room than interpreting what that unreadable gaze, or the strange reaction in himself, meant.

By the Guiding Hand, he was going to recharge for at least a week. If not for exhaustion, then definitely to avoid all three of them for as long as possible.


End file.
